If you didn't see Last Week Tonight with John Oliver last night, the Main Story was on the British Monarchy.  If you've watched his show much at all, you know this is a topic of great, scathing interest to him -- and he's open about that.  But, subjective though the report it, they're clearly trying to be objective and fact-based about the issues.  And it certainly lends itself to a lot of scathing humor...
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I love The King's Speech.  I know that when it won the Oscar for Best Picture the award got criticism from some quarters for being "old" Hollywood -- but it's superbly crafted on every level.  This is a wonderful 60 Minutes follow-up report on the movie from 2011 that's in part about Colin Firth (who won the Oscar as Best Actor after they did their interview) but mainly on the real-life history behind the movie.  It includes footage of King George struggling with speeches, fascinating documents that got discovered late in the process, and a wonderful sequence that blends the real "King's speech" with the scene from the movie.
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                         One of the Greatest Sports Miracles Ever

Now that the World Cup has started, and the United States has come up with a miracle victory, I thought this would be a good time to tell the story of not only one of the greatest, unknown World Cup miracles, but one of the all-time great sports miracles, period.

It's how my family and I got to see the World Cup in London, 1966,

And I'm serious.

Okay, no, it's not the upstart United States hockey team beating the Soviet steamrollers.  Or the unknown Roulon Gardner defeating the unbeaten, invincible legend Alexander Karelin.  It's not Kirk Gibson hitting a home run on one leg, or Doug Flutie's Hail Mary.  But those are more remarkable physical achievements by talented athletic.  This was an act of otherworldly intervention.

When I was but a wee kidling, my family took a summer trip to Europe.  One of our stops was London, where as fate would have it, the British were hosting the World Cup that year.  As maniacal as we know the rest of the world is over soccer, England might be the home of soccer insanity.  In a land known for tradition, soccer riots are de rigeur there.  If you're not rioting, you're not trying.

Nonetheless, my dad thought it would fun to see a World Cup match.  (Note:  The concept of it being "fun" to see a World Cup match is not relatable for most soccer fans, most especially those who are the aforementioned British.  "Fun" is a nice get together for tea, or taking your dog for walkies.  Being able to see a World Cup match in England is closer to being life-affirming.)  And so, uncaring of the obstacles, my dad found out how to apply to the world lottery being held to get tickets   He sent in his form and enclosed his check, and then went on with his life.  Meanwhile, throughout England there was national prayer held nightly in homes throughout the country, if only the Almighty would grant them a ticket.

We got four tickets.  

But that's not the story, it's not even close to the miracle.  It's just the heavens warming up.  Because, you see, we just get four tickets to the World Cup, we got them for...the Opening Match!  Which would be filled with grand celebration and royalty.  But thing is -- that's not the story, either.  Because, again you see, featured in the Opening Match of World Cup 1968 was a team that it was likely British fans -- so knowledgeable of all the great teams in the world -- would dearly would love to see.

That team was England.

Yes, that's right.  By just randomly sending in to the worldwide lottery, we got four tickets to the Opening Match of the World Cup between England and Uruguay, held in London at Wembley Stadium.  And here's the thing:  no, that's not the sports miracle, either.

I should note that we were very happy to get the tickets.  Not "mad-crazy-happy, my life has been made whole" like anyone in England would have been to get those four tickets, but certainly happy.  But happy as in, boy, this will be fun.  I mean, to be honest, one has to put this in perspective.  Wembley Stadium is huge, after all.  It seats 90.000 people, which is 80,000 more than the town, Glencoe, we lived in.  So, the chances of seeing the match very well were small.  And not being mad-crazy soccer fanatics, not being able to see the game very well in the nosebleed section would certainly lessen the majesty of the moment.  But still, that didn't matter all that much, since I was pretty young and didn't know the rules of soccer all that well.  (I can't speak for the rest of my family, though I suspect I knew more than my mother.  You kick the ball and hope it goes in the net.)  But just being there in the massive crowd, somewhere, anywhere, amid all the excitement, that would be cool.  Just to be able to say we were there.  Wherever "there" was.

Where "there" was turned out to be -- okay, are you ready:  mid-field, center line, halfway up, directly across the field from where the Queen of England was sitting in the Royal Box.

Okay, that's the sports miracle.

Let me repeat.  With the entire world of sports fanatics converging on London, England, for the World Cup, we got four tickets to the Opening Match in which the host country England was playing, seated at midfield halfway up Wembley Stadium across from the Queen of England.

Seriously.  

And to be clear, this isn't the fuzzy memory of a little kid recalling things far better than they actually were.  Exaggerating for posterity.  No, I have photographic evidence.  

I took pictures.

​(​Sorry for the guy's head.  I wasn't great at composition at that age.)

Look directly across the field.  Do you see that "box" just below the horizontal white line, marking the upper level?  That's where the Royal Family is sitting.  Directly opposite us.  If you look closely, I believe that Queen Elizabeth is waving at you.

I told you I wasn't lying.

It was pretty remarkable.  As I said to my dad just a couple days ago, reminding of the story, if he had decided to sell these tickets it would have paid for the entire trip.  "And," he added, "your college education.  And your brother's." 

The crowd, the ceremony, the excitement, the game, it was great.  Memorable to one's bones.  Absolutely wonderful, historic.  There was only one disappointing thing about the match.  Ever since I knew we had the tickets, one of the things I was looking forward to seeing was England score a goal amid that maniacal crowd going soul-bursting wild for the home team.  (Even at that age, I grasped the concept of such drama.)  And the final score of the game between England and Uruguay was...0-0.  

Zippo.  Or as the soccer folks like to say, "Nil."  Or more accurately, nil to nil.

​​(More action photos from the collection of photo-journalist Robert J. Elisberg.  Notice the compositional improvement after many minutes of experience represented here by the lack of heads getting at least completely in the way.  Hey, when you're a little kid, people are bigger than you are.)

So, no bursting of massive cheers by the heart-loyal English crowd at the site of the goal for their beloved home team.  No cheers over a goal from anyone.  On the good side, at least we weren't there to see England lose.  In fact, just so you know, the zero goals were not the result of a mediocre team.  Indeed, host England went on to win the world championship.  They just didn't choose to get any goals that particular day.

Hey, that's the way some miracles go.  Sometimes, the fates decide to put the miracle in perspective.  After all, you shouldn't take the good and miracle for granted.

But a dozen years before Al Michaels asked the question of sports fans at the Lake Placid Olympics, I had already been able to answer the sports question.  Yes, I do believe in miracles.

When I next get together with the Queen, I'm sure we'll swap tales of that day.  No doubt it wasn't as much a sports miracle for her -- I'm sure she had an in, or went to a scalper -- but it was nonetheless quite a day of national pomp and circumstance, so I'm sure she had to have written about it in her journal.  For all I know, she's got snapshots of me in return.

When talking with my dad about this the other day, he noted one other thing.  "How did I get those seats??"

It was a miracle, dad.  The greatest sports miracle ever.  At least to some people.

​For those who like to look at the calendar for such things, today is the 78th  anniversary of D-Day, June 6, 1944.  I thought it would therefore be especially appropriate to post this video.  It's the wonderful theme to the movie, The Longest Day, sung and performed most appropriately by the Cadet Glee Club of West Point, along with military band.
 
I first posted this video seven years ago in 2017.  It’s my favorite one on the subject – not just for the performance, but for how movingly the video is edited.  It's particularly well-done, beginning with a minute of General Dwight Eisenhower's message to the troops before the invasion began, and interspersed with some excellent photos and archival film from the day, amid the soaring music.
 
By the way, the timpani you hear before the song begins is not only recognizable as the beginning of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, but more to the point, it's the Morse Code for “V” for Victory.
 
Also, in case you weren't aware, the main theme for The Longest Day, used throughout the film not just in the end titles, was written by pop-star heartthrob at the time, Paul Anka.

On this week’s ‘Not My Job’ segment of the NPR quiz show Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me!, the guest is Dan Snow, a historian who was a part of the expedition that only weeks ago at last found Sir Ernest Shackleton’s ship Endurance, which had been lost in the Antarctic Sea in 1915.  His enthusiasm for the 100-person expedition is almost overwhelming, as he explains how they were able to finally find the lost ship after 102 years.  And he has equal enthusiasm (as do the British people) for Shackleton who he says was a monumental failure, going on four expeditions, none of which succeeded – Snow’s point being that it’s easy to be a hero when you succeed, such people are amazing, he says, but “Shackleton? He messed up!  It all went wrong, all the time.  And when it went wrong, he showed greatness.  He showed toughness and spirit, he showed compassion, and that’s why we love him in the U.K.”
 
This the full Wait, Wait… broadcast, but you can jump directly to the “Not My Job” segment, it starts around the 18:20 mark.